


On the Other Hand, You Have Different Fingers

by dancinbutterfly



Series: as yet untitled ep10 compliant Yuri On Ice series [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bathroom Sex, Bathrooms, Bottom Victor Nikiforov, Drunkenness, Fingerfucking, Holding Hands, Kissing, Lube, M/M, Neck Kissing, Sweet/Hot, Top Katsuki Yuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 02:44:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8827294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancinbutterfly/pseuds/dancinbutterfly
Summary: No lover has ever taken Victor apart so thoroughly before. And certainly not in a banquet hall bathroom.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Direct sequel to A Question of Etiquette. Like, directly. As in, this is the bathroom Chris directed them too. 
> 
> This is Banquet!fic so Yuri *IS* still drunk so if you have issues of consent around that, dont read. Keep your self-care in mind.
> 
> Otherwise? Enjoy.

“This will be better at the onsen,” Yuri promises, pressing a kiss to the space between his shoulders blades Victor can just barely feel it through his vest and shirt. His jacket is off and lying on the bathroom sink between his cheek and the cool black stone countertop he writhes on two of the long, slick fingers of Yuri's right hand. 

“You’ll see if you come, I swear. The water is so hot your muscles will turn liquid. And some of them are deep enough to come up to your waist. You can bend over better than here and I can open you just like this.”

“Yuri,” Victor pants, feeling lost in his own body. “That- That feels- Fuck. Fuck, Yuri, oh God.“

“You’re so soft inside, I can’t believe how soft you are.” Yuri sighs into his neck, with a wonder that is completely guileless. 

And Victor is dying. He is fucking dying. It shouldn’t be possible for someone to talk so goddamn graphically about the feel his lube-drenched hole it’s like some sort of innocent wonder, alright? It just shouldn’t. But this bright beautiful man is doing just that and it is wrecking what little composure he has left.

“I don’t know. I don’t know, just, ugh, God.”

“You’ll love it, Victor. I used to do it to myself all the time, when everyone went to bed.” 

Victor groans at the image of Yuri alone in a hot spring, naked and fucking himself - the same fingers inside Victor right now opening Yuri up and making him come all plaint and loose. The thought coupled with Yuri’s steady thrusts inside him sends Victor’s hunger ratcheting up another frantic, greedy notch. 

He rears up and reaches back with his left arm, desperate for something to hold onto because there was nothing infant of him but mirror, and moaned, long and now in his throat before he started begging. “Please. Please. Yuri, please?”

“Anything,” Yuri replies slow and slurred, catching Victor’s left hand with his own, moving from his hip where it was steadying him. Clinging tight, the rest of Victor sags back down to the sink in relief. He closes his eyes and turns his face into the fabric of his silk suit jacket. He shivers with every crock and rock of the clever digits in his ass and the way Yuri’s voice goes dark when he says, “Anything for you.”

“More?” Because that’s about as far as his brain can process when Yuri’s fingertips are pushing firmly on prostate, forcing the air out of Victor’s lungs. No oxygen is getting up there. 

“Mmhmm,” Yuri hums, against the underside of his jaw from his chin to the his ear. He grinding the cradle of his hips against the curve of Victor’s left cheek in time to the throb of blinding pleasure he’s causing inside Victor. “Not hard.”

“What?" Victor twists to try and look back at Yuri and their noses bump. Yuri’s eyes were bright and happy behind the lenses of his glasses. “But, what about the condoms you asked Chris for?” He’d been sure he was going to get fucked. Positive. Hell, a guy did not get bent over, pants around his ankles, ass up and open in a public bathroom if the end result wasn’t going to be sex. Right?

“Sometimes I can’t when I’m drunk,” Yuri says blandly like it’s nothing, like they’re not having this conversation while his careful ministrations drill a tunnel straight through Victor’s body with pleasure in a rhythm that is more consistent and skillful than any technique Victor had seen in his skating or even his dancing. He leans forward and presses kiss Victor’s stun-slack lips. “Don’t worry. I don’t care. I just want to make you good. Let me make you feel good Victor.”

How can he say no to that? He can’t. He gave himself over to Yuri hours ago. All that’s left is to let go and enjoy the ride. “O-Okay, Yuri.”

Yuri’s smile is like arena spotlights - burning bright and pinpointed on Victor and only Victor. It makes his breath catch almost as hard as the shock of the thrust to his gland.

“Can you come like this?” Yuri asks, twisting his two fingers to prove a point. 

Victor’s first response is a long, low moan because it aches so good. He wants to answer but he can’t breathe. He can’t make any noise but little “uh uh uh” sounds as he gasps but he pushes back hard against Yuri’s hand, letting his face drop down into his jacket.

“Victor.” Yuri presses himself all along his back, a hot solid wall of muscle and nips his neck with blunt teeth that are the kind of too-careful people only are when they’re drunk. “Victor can you? I want to stay like this.” The hand holding his gives him a squeeze and laces their fingers together in a tight lattice work that Victor thinks might be the only thing keeping him from sinking into himself forever. “But if you need- I can-“

“No. No, don’t go,” Victor gasps, tightening his grip on Yuri’s hand so hard it must hurt but he can’t let go. The idea of losing this anchor is terrifying. It’s all he has tethering him to Yuri right now, keeping this experience from being nothing but a being a haze of wholly physical sensation detached from reality. He doesn’t want to lose the connection he has to this man, not for anything. “Fuck, please, stay. Stay with me.”

“Anything,” Yuri repeats, placing gentle kisses on the spot he had just bitten. “Anything you want.”

“Stay,” he says again, begging and lost. “Yuri, please.”

“I am. I’m here.” He moves his arm so that Victor’s arm isn’t stretched back anymore. Their tangled hands are up by his shoulder now, letting his body go limp as he takes what Yuri gives him. Combined with the press of Yuri’s chest against his back and the fullness inside him, it is like being consumed.

A ragged plea for more rips itself out of his throat. It comes out in Russian though so Yuri doesn’t understand. 

“Can you-? do you need-?”

“Fingers,” he gaps. “Another. More. I want. I want, Yuri.”

“Anything for you” Yuri murmurs working a third finger against his hole. 

It’s rough. There’s no way for him to add more lube without letting go of Victor’s had. That’s okay because the sting and burn feel amazing. It brings him closer to the edge but not close enough, not even when Yuri starts to thrust, stretching him wide and pushing in so deep that he can feel it in the back of his throat.It’s so good, so much. 

“Please. Please, it’s not, Yuri, not enough.”

“Touch yourself?” Yuri asks, sounding breathless and thrilled. “Victor, want you to."

He obeys like a slave, his right hand drifting down to wrap around his cock without any thought of resistance. He’s dripping with precise, wet in his fist. The slick loud of his fist pumping seems to echo loudly in the quiet of the cavernous luxury bathroom. 

Yuri kisses cheek as he fucks into his fist and back onto those three nimble fingers. He mouthes up and down his jaw and neck, sucking on his nape hot and strong. With what would be only foreplay with anyone else, Victor is being turned inside out in a way that’s more intense than any fuck he’s ever had. 

“Close,” he gasps, finally, after hanging for what feels like forever in the in-between place of constantly rising bliss. “Yuri, I’m close.”

“What do you need?”

For a moment that stretches out like putty, Victor doesn’t know. He just breathes and tries frantically to think. Then he does and turns his face back towards Yuri. 

“Kiss me.”

Yuri does. He kisses like he danced, with his whole self and Victor explodes. He sobs out his orgasm into Yuri’s mouth and clutches his hand as the world dissolves, shattering into a million pieces that he will never be able to put back together the same way. 

When it’s over, he slumps limp on the countertop, grateful his jacket is protecting him from the hard surface because he can’t move. Between the performance earlier, the dancing tonight, and getting fucked within of an inch of his life by Yuri’s amazing hands, he is spent.

Yuri is still wriggling against his back. Making happy sounds that Victor recognizes as Japanese but cannot understand. Victor winces when Yuri’s fingers withdraw and he lets go of Victor’s hand but Victor still doesn’t move. He’s staying right where he is for a bit, thank you. He’s earned this. Hell he could probably fall asleep standing up he’s so wrung out.

But he isn’t so far gone that he doesn’t feel Yuri clean him gently and thoroughly with a wet paper towel. He is aware of tender hands redressing him carefully, pulling up his underwear and pants and buttoning them with great deliberation. 

“Do you need anything?” Yuri asks when he has made Victor presentable again.

“A wheelbarrow,” Victor mumbles into the fabric of his jacket. “To roll me back to the hotel. I can’t walk.” That makes Yuri laugh. He wants to hear it again.

“I don’t know where to find one. I can help you up?”

Victor groans and pushes himself up with both palms on the counter. He feels like his legs have been replaced with overcooked pasta but when he turns he finds Yuri, rumpled, sweaty and beaming, decides that he doesn’t care. He can endure. “I would like that.”

Yuri holds his hand out to him, delicate, graceful, and fully extended like he’s at the end of a program. Victor smiles at him and does the only thing he can do. He takes it.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a quote by comedian Steven Wright. I thought it was hilarious and fitting considering this fic is 1000% Victor getting finger fucked over a sink.


End file.
